


The Wigmaker's Tale of his Sixth Model or : How Kenzi Really Met Trick

by emef



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emef/pseuds/emef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A mashup of some Lost Girl backstory (original) and a bit from the Arabian Nights, as told in the Arthur Rackham Fairy Book (shamelessly plagiarized).  Hope you like it!</p><p>A thousand thanks to Alex and Xen, for putting up with my petulant demands for help, and yet more thanks to Jayne for beta.  <3</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Wigmaker's Tale of his Sixth Model or : How Kenzi Really Met Trick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenet/gifts).



> A mashup of some Lost Girl backstory (original) and a bit from the Arabian Nights, as told in the Arthur Rackham Fairy Book (shamelessly plagiarized). Hope you like it!
> 
> A thousand thanks to Alex and Xen, for putting up with my petulant demands for help, and yet more thanks to Jayne for beta. <3

This is the story that was told to the Ash by the wigmaker of Younge Street about Kenzi, who was the wigmaker's sixth model.

"Though at one time, he said, my model, Kenzi, was industrious and successful in her business, at length she was reduced by reverse of fortune to the necessity of begging her bread.  In this occupation she acquitted herself with great address, her chief aim being to procure free meals in nice establishments by sucking up to the owners.

One winter solstice, having just been fitted with a bright fushia wig,  she passed by a very magnificent basement, through the door of which she could see a spacious pub, wherein were a vast number of eccentrically-dressed people.  She went up to one of them, and inquired to whom the pub belonged.  'My good lady', said the fae (for that was what he was), 'where can you come from that you ask such a question?  Any fae would know that this belongs to The Trick.'  My model, who well knew not to ask too many questions, did not ask him to explain this word, 'fae'.  She did not know it, but the man had mistaken Kenzi for one of his own, due to the very bright fushia wig I had given her to wear.

So she entered the pub, the Dal Riata.  She passed through a handsome vestibule, which led to a fine foyer, the floor of which was formed of tiles of many colours very pleasing to the eye ; and at last she entered a bar, richly furnished, where she saw a nice-looking dude with a sort of exasperated, over-burdened expression.  This proved to be The Trick himself, who bade her welcome, and asked my model what she wished.  Kenzi then told him that she had eaten nothing that day.

The Trick, powerful as he was, knew that Kenzi was not one of his tribe.  He also knew that Kenzi was to one day be important, and well-known to his patrons, but that this day was not yet come.  But he was compassionate, and admired her skill at gatecrashing, so he did not wish to turn her away directly.  So how to give her warmth without giving her license to remain indefinitely?

'How!' cried The Trick.  'Is it true that at this late hour you have not broken your fast?  Alas, you will die of hunger!  Here, let us eat.'  When he had said this, although he had not gone to the kitchens and laid food on the table, he pretended to help himself from a dish, and to carry food to his mouth and chew it, while he called out to Kenzi, 'Eat, I entreat you, my guest.  You are heartily welcome.  Eat, I beg of you : you seem, for a hungry patron, to have but a poor appetite.'

Kenzi was not very comfortable with this turn of events, but she has always had a very strong survival instinct, so she imitated all the movements of her host.  'Pardon me, good sir', she said, 'you see I am indeed very hungry.'

'What do you think of this bread?' said The Trick.  'Don't you find it excellent?'

'In truth, good sir', answered my model, who saw neither bread nor meat, 'I never tasted anything better.'

'Eat your fill, then,' said The Trick.  'I assure you the baker who made this excellent bread, and the chef who prepared this delicious entrée, will enjoy the praise.'

'Oh, they are admirable,' answered my model ; 'and you see that I help myself very plentifully.'

'Trick presently claimed to have set a plate of burgers and fries on the table.  And after that, many rich dishes of different kinds, of which my model, who felt completely famished, continued to pretend to eat in turn.  At last, in reply to his persuasions, my model protested that in truth she could not eat any more.

'Then let us have dessert,' said The Trick, and he went on to press on Kenzi all the most delightful pastries and sweets, which were, of course, as imaginary as the earlier dishes had been.

'Oh, sir,' at last exclaimed Kenzi, whose jaws were aching from chewing on air, 'I assure you I am so full that I cannot eat a morsel more.'

'Then,' cried The Trick, 'after one has eaten so heartily one should drink a little!  You have no objection to good beer?'

'Sir,' cried Kenzi, 'I pray you forgive me.  I have never tasted beer.'

'You are in for a treat,' said The Trick.  'Come, come, do as I do!'  And Kenzi pretended to take the glass that The Trick appeared to hold out to her.  She held it up, and admired its bright colour, put it to her nose to smell it, and then, making a most profound reverence to The Trick, she drank it off, pretending that it gave her the most exquisite pleasure.

The Trick proceeded to pour out one kind after another of this invisible beer, drinking and filling my model's cup, until at last Kenzi pretended that the beer had got into her head, and feigned intoxication.  She raised her hand and gave The Trick such a violent blow that she knocked him down.  She was going to strike him a second time, but The Trick, holding up his arm to ward off the blow, called out, 'Are you mad?'

My model then pretended to recollect herself, and said, 'O sir, you had the goodness to receive me into your establishment, and to make a great feast for me ; you should have been satisfied with making me eat ; but you compelled me to drink beer.  I told you I had never tried it, and I can only say now that I am very sorry, and humbly ask your pardon.'

When Kenzi had finished this speech The Trick, instead of being angry, burst into a violent fit of laughter.  'For a long time,' said he, 'I have not met a human with a disposition like your own.  I not only pardon the blow you have given me, but from this moment I will be honest with you : you cannot remain here.  Your presence is unexpected, and early.  Now is not our time, you and I.  Come, we will share a meal, a real one, and share ale, and then you must be on your way.  In truth, we are to meet some years from now.'

The Trick regaled Kenzi with all the dishes he had before partaken of in imagination.

And just as The Trick had foretold, Kenzi returned some years later, with the Succubus, Bo.  But that is another story."


End file.
